Tag Archives: personal

I Dreamed a Dream

I often think about why is it that when we become older, the dreams we once had, begin to fade? As children, we have no hangups or limitations with our imaginations in what we can do or in who we can become! We dream about becoming an astronaut, a firefighter, a singer, a painter, an actor, the best athlete ever, or even a president just to name a few. We even dream about falling in love and living a life happily-ever-after.

But then reality kicks in and before long, we become consumed with agendas and deadlines. We are up to our neck with studies in trying to get ahead, or we’re drowning in work trying to make ends meet, or in raising a family that we have no time for ourselves — these all take precedence and so we put our dreams on hold … or the dreams once dreamt simply fade away.

Or perhaps someone spoke death over us:

Grow up.

You’ll never amount to anything.

You’re not smart enough.

You’re not good enough.

I want a divorce.

I don’t love you anymore.

You’re too old.

It’s too late.

It’s over.

Been there. Done that. I’ve walked on some of these roads. I know the feelings of hopelessness and devastation. What feels like the end isn’t always the end but a new beginning. No matter the outcome, don’t let your dream die as mentioned in the last stanza of Les Misérables: Now life has killed the dream I dreamed …

Yes, life happens. Seasons change and our perspective may shift. Today is Day 35 when I am working from home, and it is Day 21 of our state’s Stay-at-Home mandate due to COVID-19. These past few days, I have been doing a little self-reflection. While most days I keep myself occupied, other days, I can become a bit melancholy. These are indeed challenging times and remaining in prayer is what keeps me whole and in positive spirits.  (Devotion: Philippians 4:6-9 )

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Filed under dreams, Hope For the Hopeless

Celebrating our 26th Wedding Anniversary

Hi fellow bloggers,

On a daily basis, we find ourselves navigating uncharted waters due to the COVID-19 pandemic. My household and family members are taking the necessary precautions to ensure safety all around. We are also caring for my elderly Mama at our home and desire to keep her in the best of health possible.

So, here we are, staying at home and locked-down. I believe it is day number 14. Today is April 6th, our wedding anniversary. Usually, my hubby treats me to a romantic evening of wining and dining. Well, I’m here to tell you, he did not disappoint.

Our meal, under the stars, consisted of a well-prepared tossed salad, mouth-watering rib-eyes, sautéed mushrooms, and buttery baked potatoes – all done to perfection by my hubby. As the music played softly in the background, after our delicious meal, we even danced to a couple of songs (out on the driveway).

This is definitely one for the books!

I came across a short article on staying positive during COVID-19 pandemic and here are three points from psychologist Joshua Williams. He suggested:

  • Take a break

You don’t have to watch, read or talk about COVID-19 all day. It’s important to stay informed but not consumed.

  • Make time to unwind

Pick up an old hobby. Start a new one. Just do something you enjoy.

  • Take care of yourself

Mind, body, and soul. Take a walk. Listen to music. Read something uplifting. Try to eat healthy, well-balanced meals, exercise regularly, get plenty of sleep, and avoid alcohol and drugs.

Good stuff. I will add, remain mindful of others. Pray for those who are hurting and if possible, extend a helping hand, even if from a distance.

While it is true that experts are saying we don’t know what the future holds, how about focusing on the todays instead? Focus on all that Almighty God has brought you out of in the past. Take one day at a time. Determination to make the best out of any situation is the key.

Let. Go. Of. Fear.

Be aware and remain updated, but don’t overkill. Believe me when I say how fear can grasp your heart if you dwell on the negatives! Instead, go for a walk, lay out in the sun, ride a bike, read that book (have you read my memoir?), clean out your closet, garage, and the weeds in your garden. Organize those drawers, closet pantries, and photo albums. Learn a new hobby or try a new recipe.

Or just have dinner out on the driveway.

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Filed under COVID-19, Wedding Anniversary

Then Came the Morning

Brokenhearted . . .
How can I bear the pain?
So many plans . . . permanently interrupted.
So many dreams . . . shattered.
Hopes . . . dashed.
All gone.
Why?
Why this?
Why us? Why me?
Helplessness . . . hopelessness . . .
Life will never be the same again.
Is it even worth living?
Where are you, God?

I’m right here beside you, my child.
Even though you may not feel my presence,
I’m holding you close under the shadow of my wings.
I will walk with you through this dark night.

Do not shrink from weeping.
I gave you tears for emotional release.
Don’t try to hide your grief.
Let it become for you a source of healing,
A process of restoration,
For I have planned it so.
Those who mourn shall be blessed.
I’ll be holding on to you,
Even when you feel you can’t hold on to me.

Seek my face, child of mine.
Receive my promise, impossible as it may seem now,
That joy will come in the morning.
It may take much time,
But I will heal your broken heart.
I know the night seems endless,
but MORNING WILL COME.
I have promised.

–From the Haven of Rest Newsletter

Note: I came across the above poem some time ago, and wanted to share it with my readers. So many times we can’t see the light because of so much fear, darkness, despair, grief, and pain. We wonder how long? How much more? When will it end? God, are you really there? Friends, please know that as long as you have a pulse, there is a purpose. As long as you have breath, there is hope. And as long as you’re in your right mind, there are possibilities. Under the shadow of His wings, stay the course. One day at a time. Full speed ahead!

Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

EASTER IS AROUND THE CORNER – THAT HASN’T BEEN CANCELLED.

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A Tale of Three Mothers

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times …”


As I contemplated writing this piece, I was reminded of the famous opening line in the classic novel, A Tale of Two Cities.

Please bear with me as I put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and attempt to express the stirrings of my heart. While difficult to write, write I must!

In my last post, I wrote about me and my husband’s recent return from a wonderful, much-needed vacation on a cruise with a couple of friends. Because neither one of us cared about adding the extra fee for internet usage, we opted out and enjoyed our getaway. As we neared the Port of Galveston upon our return, we were inundated with unexpected text messages and several missed calls.

Shockingly, I learned that my 79-year-old stepmother–who had always been like a mother to me–was hospitalized and in ICU. My sister stayed with her rarely leaving her side, her “labor of love,” as she so well put it. After suffering from a bout of excruciating pain, my stepmother had to have emergency surgery due to a small bowel obstruction.

A series of complications and alarming close calls left my family in panic, bombarding Heaven with their prayers. Three weeks later, thankfully, my stepmother was released from the hospital. She continues recuperating at home, working on gaining her strength and some weight back.

My sister continues to care for her and our dad in Florida, and she is doing an extraordinary job, indeed a labor of love!

Ironically enough, while we were on our cruise, our friend’s own dear 90-year-old mother was admitted into hospice. She had suffered a stroke, which soon led to another. The day we returned, our friend flew back to her hometown in Kentucky to be near her mother’s bedside. Needless to say, our hearts were heavy.

With permission, I share the words written by my friend’s sister, regarding their mother:

Mom isn’t doing too good she has had another stroke.
Hospice said it could be anytime she would be joining Dad.
She can’t talk, eat, drink, or move.
She is trapped in that old broken down body which seems such a horrible place to be!
I still love her so much.
I can’t stand to see her in such a way.
Part of me wants her to pass so she can escape that horrible prison;
But to escape she has to leave me physically.
Mom has been gone for over 2 yrs mentally,
But her body has remained.
But when I think of her passing …
I shudder to think about me! 
So many mixed emotions are going through me at this time:
I feel guilty for wanting her to go, But selfish for wanting her to stay.
I know it is in Lord’s hands. I do not make that decision; the Lord will make it.
I imagine my Dad has been begging and pleading with the Lord since he got into heaven to bring her home!
I know Dad is getting everything ready for her arrival … 
Our family can use some prayers!

Less than a week later, their precious mother passed away …

Many times, situations seem so out of control, and we are left feeling helpless. Even if one clings to their faith in God, and tries to prepare for the inevitable regarding elderly parents, the heartache and sadness of that lost loved one still crushes you and leaves a hole in your heart. But don’t despair! We are reminded in Psalms 34:18: “The LORD is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.”

And wouldn’t you know the very day our friend’s mother passed, we celebrated my own mama’s 85th birthday!

The pendulum swings in the momentum of life.

Although Mama is not in the best of health, I am grateful to God that we are able to celebrate her life and bring her joy.

She’s had a hard life, which I shared in my memoir. We both have. But God has turned our mess into a message.

I feel blessed knowing that I can bring Mama some joy surrounded by family.

My husband, children, and their spouses helped to make her day special, as we showered her with gifts at one of her favorite restaurants.

While I have made no bones about our complicated mother-daughter relationship, those obstacles have never diminished my love for her.


The bottom line is We. Love. Our. Mothers. And we desire to honor them.

I pray the Lord to grant us the strength to relinquish them into His hands when that time comes for us all. May this blog post bring perfect peace and be a tribute to all our mothers.

We love you, Gloria Esther Perez.

We love you, Edna Tinsley Canter.

We love you, Ruth Ann Mendez.

Mother’s love is something that no one can explain, it is made of deep devotion and of sacrifice and pain, it is endless and unselfish and enduring come what may. For nothing can destroy it or take that love away.”
~ Hellen Steiner Rice

“It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”

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Filed under Tribute to Mothers

Touched by an Angel

I ADORED MY little sister growing so fast. To see her beaming face at the window highlighted my day after school. She always reached up to carry my books, no matter how heavy. After we shared a snack, then time for homework. Anna took naps or played alone, while I finished my studies. Then we’d go out for a walk.

She loved the outdoors. Our outings became adventures—it made me feel good to see her hopping and skipping alongside me. If something piqued her curiosity, we stopped, whether it was to find a fallen bird’s nest or to watch a worm squirm under a rock to hide. We’d listen to the mockingbirds while we gathered sprigs of white wildflowers, and the red hibiscus and puffy yellow marigolds in bloom, smelling their fragrance before taking some home for Mama.

Anna cheerfully greeted everyone we passed. “What a beautiful angel she is,” they’d say. Her enchanting smile and deep blue, watchful eyes mesmerized me. The warmth of her merry laughter penetrated hearts, including mine. “She’s my sister,” I’d proudly boast. Anna’s countenance radiated joy. I cherished her carefree spirit and relished her innocence.

Since Mama stayed in bed until the afternoons, Anna and I usually ate a bowl of cornflakes for breakfast. We’d watch Sesame Street on the black-and-white tube. Whenever Big Bird appeared, my sister squealed and clapped. Then when Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood came on, we sang along with him.

We ate our meals sitting on cushions on the floor. We didn’t have a scheduled time to eat. Chow time consisted of simple bologna sandwiches, a heated can of SpaghettiOs, or sometimes a can of tomato soup. On special occasions, we ate Swanson chicken TV dinners.

Mama expected me to care for my sister. In the evenings, when she and Jimmy went out, Anna and I stayed home by ourselves. We’d lay on the floor to color or play inside our blanket tent, having tea parties with our plastic cups. I sometimes read aloud, making up the words I didn’t know. We stayed up until we grew sleepy.

Whatever we did, doing it together was more fun than being alone.

One particular evening, as I gazed into my sister’s baby-blues, a sudden feeling of sorrow swept over me. Tears clouded my eyes. Something burned within my chest. I cried out, “Please God, don’t let nothing bad happen to her!”

Anna gazed at me with her gentle, trusting eyes.

“I’ll protect you,” I whispered to her. “For always.”

Before bedtime, we repeated a child’s prayer Grandma taught me, one that hung on the wall:

“. . . I pray thee, Lord, my soul to keep . . .”

That night I clung to my sister and kept the strange premonition to myself.

Excerpt of Chapter 4: The Little Green Dress in Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace

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In memory of my angel, my sister born Sept. 23, 1966.
Taken too soon from us on Oct. 22, 1968.
I’ll love you forever, for true and for always.

“I shall go to her, but she shall not return to me.”
2 Sam. 12:23

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Filed under Angel, In Loving Memory

The Breakup Song

 

This song relates to me! Please listen to the words and may it resonant in you, whoever you are!

Yes, in the scheme of things, I am still fighting a battle. But I am reminded that the battle is not mine but the Lord’s!

Know who your enemy is! The worse emotion that we feel from time to time is fear, which can cripple you if you let it. But don’t allow it to.

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Filed under Francesca Battistelli

Weekend Getaway – Family Reunion

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Missing my loved ones in Florida, and thankful for the beautiful memories.

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He Completes Me

“I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”

He is the one for me. He is the man who has stuck by my side since day one as my loving confidant, helpmate, and best friend. He is the man who loves me, cherishes me, and tells me that I am beautiful. He loves me on my best days and he loves me on my worse days. He knows my past and has never belittled me or made me feel inadequate. He is faithful, a man true to his word. I can count on his constant love and remain secure in his arms. He praises me for my accomplishments and encourages me in my failures. When I’m happy, his warm laughter melts my heart. When I’m sad or fearful, his gentle touch wipes away my tears.

I love you, my husband. And I am proud to be your wife. I am truly grateful to the Lord for joining us together to share the remainder of our days. As we celebrate our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, may our constant love nourish and sustain each other until the end of time.

You can read about him in Chapter 42 of my book: “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace

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Filed under Anniversary celebration, Marriage

Counting my Blessings

Just two years ago today, I received a phone call from my daughter that made my heart drop. She said “Pops” had fallen off a 20′ ladder that left him with 13 busted ribs, 4 cracked vertebrae, and both lungs partially collapsed. I sped to the job site just as the ambulance arrived to rush him to the hospital. Once there, they immediately inserted a tube in his lungs to inflate them so he could breathe. He remained for several days in ICU, battling for his life after getting an infection, along with a bout of pneumonia. But God! After a couple of weeks (that felt like the longest two weeks ever) he came home to finish mending!

If you have a moment, you can read about this story here

People, let go of the petty stuff and love your spouse!

Every day is a gift (from God), that’s why they call it the present.

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My Mountain Man!

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Filed under reminiscence, Survivor

I Will Never Forget


Sometimes an event occurs and time stands still.

I know I shall never forget …

September 2001:

I worked for two years for a reputable high-end floor and textile cleaning company. I started out as a receptionist and was then promoted to inside sales. I sported around in a Jeep Grand Cherokee and I’d been married for seven wonderful years. Mark had become a devoted Christian, and we attended church as a close-knit family. In April, we purchased our home southwest of Houston in Fort Bend County. Five months later, while driving to work, my tranquil life was interrupted by distress and unexpected terror.

On September 11th, around 7:50 in the morning, I heard on the radio that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York. As soon as I arrived at the office, I flicked on the TV to see the live broadcast of a massive hole in one tower caused by the plane’s impact. Co-workers gathered around and we couldn’t peel our eyes away from the screen. Black smoke billowed out of the building, soon engulfed by flames.

We heard what we didn’t want to hear and continued to see unbelievable images that will forever be etched in our minds. My heart plummeted as I saw a second plane hit the other tower. Buildings collapsed minutes later and we all gasped in horror knowing that hundreds—thousands—lost their lives.

That night, President Bush spoke powerful words: “Freedom itself was attacked this morning by a faceless coward, and freedom will be defended.”

Freedom isn’t free, I thought, and freedom is worth any cost.

I thought about the word “freedom.” For the first time, in my own life, I truly felt free.

Free from my own past … Free from the clutches of loneliness. Free from wondering where the next meal was coming from. Free from being a prisoner in my own mind, a failing marriage, a broken home.

But I also knew that in a split second, a life could be gone. I experienced that harsh truth the day I lost my baby sister to a hit-and-run driver. I lived through the stark reality of nearly drowning twice as a youngster. I relived that nightmare every time my former husband abused me, and again, on the day he shot at me.

An excerpt of “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace” –  Chapter 43

Your turn:

We ALL have a story. We each have our own memories.

Your turn. What is your memory of that fateful day?

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Filed under 911, Memorial